


Empire of Dirt

by thedeathchamber



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Other, PWP without Porn, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 04:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeathchamber/pseuds/thedeathchamber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal’s fingers dipped between each of his ribs on his way up his chest and fanned out over the vee of his collarbones before following the tracery of veins of his arms down to the tips of his fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empire of Dirt

 

Will shivered. He fixed his eyes on the quiet darkness of the rectangle of hall visible through the open door, the glint of light on the door handle blinding when he blinked, slowly, heavily. His limbs were heavy and he sat unsteadily on the edge of the bathtub, one hand slipping and sliding against the smooth tile, smearing red on spotless white.

Dr. Lecter knelt at his feet, rolling his damp socks off and running his fingers over the arch of his foot and the prominence of bone of his ankle. Will’s eyes shifted when the hands settled on his thighs, fingers spread, palms digging into the muscles of his leg. Everything around him blurred as his glasses fogged up. The rush of water drowned out the nervous beating of his heart when Hannibal carefully removed his glasses. Will blinked, out of focus, closed his eyes when a cool hand settled on his forehead, brushing back his damp hair.

“I fear this is no longer fit for use.” Hannibal murmured, plucking at the hem of his shirt. Will tugged at the shirt in a convulsive movement, shuddering at the pull of wet cloth on the skin of his belly and chest. It left behind a red sticky stain on his skin.

Hannibal combed his fingers through the tangle of sweaty curls at the base of his skull and Will’s grip on the shirt loosened. He let it fall. Will met his eyes briefly and felt his jaw loosen, his mouth parting in a soundless exhale. His lips trembled as Hannibal traced the ripple of blood under the sensitive skin of his throat with two fingers.

“There is nothing to fear here, Will.” he said, rising to his feet in one smooth move.

Will nodded jerkily and stood on wobbly legs. He struggled with the zipper, pushed down to his knees the heavy denim. His underwear was damp with sweat and the waistband stained dark with blood. The sour taste of bile burned his throat and his mouth filled with saliva. He swallowed again and again, knuckles white on the hand that gripped the edge of the sink for balance as Hannibal undressed him, quickly and efficiently, the barest brush of his knuckles against the bare skin of Will’s hips and thighs.

“Careful now.” Hannibal looked up at Will.

His chest flooded with heat at the whisper of warm breath on his crotch and he lowered his eyes to Hannibal’s mouth for one shuddering breath. Will stepped into the bath resisting the urge to cover himself.

The water was too hot. Will bowed his head under the spray and closed his eyes. When he felt the pressure of Hannibal’s fingers on the back of his neck he turned obediently. The slide of his palms over his shoulders and down his back, fingers spread to fit the curvature of his ribcage, prickled his skin. Pressure built behind Will’s eyes as Hannibal followed the curve of his spine, slipping between his legs then sliding downward, ticklish in the hollow at the back of his knees and the swell of his calves.

“Turn around, please.” Will opened his eyes. Hannibal had rolled back the sleeves of his dressing gown and Will stared at the shifting of muscles under his bare, wet skin. Will squeezed his eyes shut at the scrape of blunt nails on his thighs and the lingering touch over his hips and belly. Hannibal’s fingers dipped between each of his ribs on his way up his chest and fanned out over the vee of his collarbones before following the tracery of veins of his arms down to the tips of his fingers.

“Keep your eyes closed.” Hannibal cautioned. Will’s lips were stretched into a fleeting smile when Hannibal washed his face, thumbs sweeping over the arch of his brows and rubbing soothing circles over his throbbing temples. Will bowed his head, keeping his eyes closed as Hannibal washed his hair.

The water rinsed away the soap in scalding rivulets.

Hannibal helped him into a soft cotton bathrobe, but Will laced the belt himself.

“How do you feel?” Hannibal asked.

Will glanced at his reflection, too pale under the flush of nervous fever, and caught the dark glint of Hannibal’s eyes in the mirror.

“Clean.” Will wrenched the muscles of his face into a smile.

“Dirt on the skin is easily washed away.” Hannibal led him out into the hall with a hand on his shoulder. “It is the filth inside that is the most difficult to wipe out.”

Will’s bare feet made no sound on the carpet. “Do you think I’m... _unclean_?” he asked, too loud.

“I think what you do can contaminate you.” Hannibal said thoughtfully, guiding him into the bedroom with a shallow bow. “But I am here to stop that from happening, Will.”

Will cast him a glance out of the corner of his eye as he pulled on the pajama bottom folded neatly on the bed. “Or mop up the mess if it does?” Will asked, wry.

“If necessary.” Hannibal said simply, taking the bathrobe Will had left at the feet of the bed and folding it over the back of a chair. He studied Will briefly as he poured him a glass of water from a jug on the nightstand. “I was not expecting an overnight guest.”

Hannibal interrupted Will’s faltering apology. “I trust you will not be too uncomfortable though we do not wear the same size; my own was all I could offer on such short notice.”

“It’s fine.” Will mumbled. “More than fine.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Will?” Hannibal pulled back the coverlet and smoothed a hand over the pillow, though he kept his eyes fixed on Will.

Will shook his head, mouth dry. Hannibal inclined his head solemnly. “In that case, I bid you good night.”

“Dr. Lecter-” Will called and Hannibal paused at the door. Will ducked his head, cast him a quick glance.

Hannibal’s lips curved. “Good night, Will.”

Will raised the cup to his lips and then pressed the cool glass against his cheek. He stretched out on the bed with his eyes closed for a minute before turning on his side. His heartbeat drowned out every sound as he breathed in the scent of Hannibal on the pillow.

He rolled back onto his back and opened his eyes, kicked the bedspread to his feet as the darkness unfurled and broke over him like a swarm of glittering flies. Gulping for breath, Will raised his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes until he saw distant boat-house lights in the red-tinted darkness behind his eyelids. 

He thought of Alana with his palms pressed to his eyes. The arch of her eyebrows and the hint of cleft in her chin. The lazy curl of her hair and the long line of her mouth. Her blue eyes.

The taste of coffee, not too sweet, when they kissed.

Will took a deep breath, scrubbed his face with the heel of his hand. He ran a hand over his chest and stomach remembering the warmth of Alana’s body against his during the kiss. Heat dripped down his spine.

His palms were sweating and the tips of his fingers echoed his quickening heartbeat. Will fisted the sheet, flushed with arousal and mortification. His skin was oversensitive, burning with the impression of Hannibal’s hands on his body and the memory of Alana’s embrace. The snarl of lines drawn by Hannibal and Alana on his skin unraveled, blurring the distinction between the two into indifferent stimulation.

Will bit back a groan as dragged the heel of his palm over his erection. The pajama shirt twisted around his chest as he arched his back with pleasure. His breathing was wet and broken as he curled his fingers around his cock. The brush of his knuckles against his inner thigh brought a jolt of heat as Hannibal’s fingerprints on his skin seemed to flare up.

Alana had gripped the back of his neck when they kissed. The glistening red of her lips when they broke apart and she breathed bittersweet words into his mouth. Will tightened his grip on his cock. He could smell Hannibal on the clothes he was wearing; on his skin. His heels slid on the sheets as the tension crept up his thighs and pressure built between his legs.

His fingers slipped on the wood of the nightstand as he fumbled in the dark for the box of tissues.

Will ran his tongue over his lips on which Hannibal had smeared the taste of his fingers, sharp and metallic. Alana’s silhouette cut out against the darkness in her red patterned dress.

The cup tipped over and rolled off the edge of the table as he spilled into his fist. The glass shattered, cutting in on his tremulous inhalation.

Will tugged a handful of tissues out of the box with an inarticulate, breathless curse and wiped his hand and stomach. He dabbed at the wetness on the crotch of the pajama bottoms and the droplets on the hem of the shirt.

There was a knock on the door. Will balled up the tissues in his fist and sat up, knees bent. It took him a moment to bring Hannibal into focus as dim light spilled in from the corridor. “I heard a noise. Are you unwell, Will?”

Will shook his head. His heart hammered against his ribcage: under the scent of soap, he could smell sweat and semen. “My rest isn’t usually very… _restful._ ” he said dryly.

Hannibal tilted his head and looked from the mess on the floor to Will. He breathed in deeply, twice. Will caught the glint of his eyes and the glistening tip of his tongue as he licked his lips. “No apology necessary.”

The darkness swallowed Will’s deep flush.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I just wanted Will undressed by Hannibal and in his clothes. That's it. That's all I wanted.


End file.
